Akai Bara
by Fleur de la Lune
Summary: Perhaps, it was the magnificent, rich colour of red that brought them together... Or maybe they were just too tired of being lonely. Re-written and updated.
1. The night of scarlet memories

**Well, I know it's quite a crazy idea of a pairing and I ****honestly don't know how I came up with it, but here I am. I should say this is my first attempt at a crossover, so try to be more indulgent. However, constructive criticism is welcome. **

**This is sort of parallel to my other RM story **_**Poison de la rose**_**.**

**It was written about a year ago to be a one-shot when I was suddenly struck by a sudden thought to keep up with the weirdness. The first chapter was re-written and completed and there is more to come. Do leave a review so that I know your opinion!**

The silence was oppressing…

Shinku lay on the bed, motionless, her cerulean eyes fixed on the ceiling. Her loose curls ran across the pillow in rivulets of pale gold; her hands, fingers intertwined, rested on top of her breast and heaved slightly as she breathed. Her shallow gaze pierced through the gloomy haze that enveloped the bedchamber. The single candle in an elegant candlestick at the other end of the room was trying desperately to fight this bleak darkness, but with little success, and only boosted the direly mellow symphony of silence. The children born in this flickering battle – ghosts, more ethereal than Rozen Maidens' artificial spirits, – skittered across the walls and ceiling. Shinku's stare occasionally caught those half-shadows on the smooth plaster and her pupils quivered along with them. Her naked porcelain skin was softly surrounded with the bright red of blankets – the contrast made it almost milk-white. The overlap of those two colours – red and black – was breathtaking to her. It was the first night when she really noticed that. The stagnant air pressed upon the Rozen Maiden, but she could clearly discern in it the notes of a subtle aroma let out by the roses. Everlasting in its familiarity, the scent soothed her brain, narcotic-like. She could picture those full and fresh vermillion buds in the vase on the nightstand even without looking. The combination of senses, swept over her by that luxury of the scarlet chamber, felt excruciatingly good. And yet, Shinku was sad. The silence seemed to be impending…

Sleep wouldn't come to the fifth daughter of Rozen that night and her little head was full of thoughts. She was thinking of Jun.

Shinku closed her eyes and let memories flow freely through her mind. She remembered the first time they met – he was so scared back then and couldn't understand a thing. She remembered the many times when she slapped him for being insolent, or a bad servant, or something else. And the moments when he left his gloomy attitudes and they talked so frankly, and she would smile to him and suppress her yearning for father for a short time – they also came to her mind. And the tea he used to make for her… And the day when he wanted to make something pleasant for her but, being ignorant, bought her an antique brooch which sorely reminded her of the beginning of her and Suigintou's mortal grudge. And the moment when she, acting quite unladylike, slipped her dress down and watched him work on it. She had said he had magic fingers… And the tiny tree of his soul which she and her sisters tried to save in his world of overbearing depression. And also the moment when she let him do the most precious thing – brush her pale golden hair. Those memories were still quite fresh. She had let him into her heart. She used to trust him. _Used to_, but did no more…

Another series of flashes made her feel dull ache and she tried to skip them as quickly as possible. His betrayal, the deep offence he had given her…

Shinku was not wholly aware of how it happened, but Jun had started to alienate from her. It had been quite clear from the beginning that a relationship between a human and a doll couldn't possibly develop but she would have never imagined it would end up like this… After breaking his reclusion and returning to normal life Jun began to lose interest to the scarlet Rozen Maiden. He had new goals and new friends, everything so different from those previous years, and Shinku would be left alone more and more often. Perhaps, wrong ideas were prompted to him from without, but he had changed a lot and a little porcelain doll couldn't keep his attention for long now. Solitude was the most dreadful thing for her – fortunately, her girls had always been there to comfort her, but some part of her soul still seemed to be missing. Chibi human, it was before long that you forgot it was Shinku and her sisters who helped you overcome the pain of your parents' absence and revived you for the outer world, you have but little gratitude!

Torn fragments of memories flashed before her mind's eye as her closed eyelids twitched nervously. It could still be bearable that way, but it wasn't the end. It was a betrayal. He had fallen in love with some human girl and she took away all his feelings for Shinku and crushed them. It was pretty natural but nevertheless bitter. Shinku didn't want to recall her. She had tried to talk to him earnestly, tell him of all her complaints, but heard only cruel words in response… Those words were erased from her memory now – all the better for that. Perhaps, he spoke in a fit of temper. Perhaps, it was a mistake… But Rozen Maidens never forgive _such _mistakes. And it was the breach of their contract, of the thin thread that had held them together…

She left… And he was no longer her medium. And there was no more a rose ring on her finger.

Shinku opened her eyes – they were swollen with brilliant moisture but she didn't cry; the times when she shed tears had passed long ago. The red magnificence of the room shrouded her. Why was she thinking of all that on that night? For some reason, she wanted to recollect _everything._

The next few years of her existence were nearly blank in her memory, only stray fragments went through her mind now and then. She had faced what she had most feared since the time of her separation from father, what she had experienced before meeting Jun Sakurada – loneliness. Her sisters were scattered around the world – they either hadn't stayed with her former medium. Her father seemed further away than ever. The curse of the Alice game was still in the air. She floundered between worlds and epochs in her large wooden case, the never-aging, useless doll. Her powers were greatly diminished. She had no real medium – only random people who came and went in her random, disorderly life… The proud, independent Shinku, always so strong and so composed, a born Alice – loneliness was her weakness and she had desperately longed for someone by her side, she (though she never really admitted it) wanted her family back and tried to grasp at the feeble phantom which drifted away mercilessly.

She never knew how much time she had spent like this – for her immortal being it was insignificant. Shinku inhaled deeply – the jagged thoughts of that time gave her some _exquisite _pain.

Until everything changed again… She had become a human… Never ask her how and why it happened; it was something that occurred to her one day and all she knew was that she was now a real living girl – of between 18 and 20, perhaps. Tall and slender, quite curvy, still prettier than her doll form. It was a very strange sensation to which she could never really adjust. Even now, under the silk red cover her naked body felt somehow not fully hers, something more perfect and at the same time something foreign from what had been created by father – no ball-joints, no glassy glitter in her eyes, no hard coldness of porcelain, but the beautiful baby-blue hue and warm sunny radiance of her hair remained. Her body would now develop and age – she had lost her privilege of eternal existence. It gave her so many new queer feelings – she became more vulnerable; if she bruised herself, it would hurt; if she cut her finger, a drop of red liquid would appear; if she didn't eat regularly, she would become feeble. But still, a real heart was now beating inside her breast and no wind-up key was needed to bring her back to life – if this had happened, it was what her father wanted, she was sure. And the crucial point would be reached sometime very soon…

That was not the only change that had befallen her. She had still had no medium, but her human form demanded more energy than ever to maintain her life… Shinku traced a tiny moth of a shadow on the ceiling. The silence was as oppressing as before, but now she sensed sort of a warm tickle deep inside her breast and smiled with the corners of her lips.

The sight of rich waves of red hair crossed her mind… The long bloody tresses flowing in the wind, the wide flaps of an elegant cherry coat fluttering along with the hair, the seductive, somewhat sickly-sweet glance of the green eyes. Grell Sutcliffe…

When Shinku first saw him as he was standing aloof on that windy day, he seemed to her a perfect aristocrat. Well, it was exaggerated (quite a lot, perhaps) but the first impression remained for her ever so strong, fascinating. The red flowing hair… And an airy self-concentrated grin that stole away from his feminine lips as they fondled the petals of a rose – no need to mention, a red one. The red rose was the favourite flower of them both. It was dear to Shinku because it was the first little gift from her father after her awakening. Grell loved it because it was beautiful, sophisticated and, well, red.

The Rozen Maiden had always thought that men were disgusting creatures, whose sole objective was to harass, paw and compromise poor women. Sutcliffe was nothing like that. Actually, it was she who had to win to him, while he was flawlessly gentlemanlike towards her, or rather _lady_like. He was quite considerate and somewhat restrained to the girl, until Shinku discovered he took a _slightly_ greater liking to men than to women. Then, of course, she learnt more about his person – the neat aristocrat had turned out be a maniac madman and, on top of everything, a shinigami. A merry job it was, no doubt, to reap human souls! Why on Earth was Shinku always attracted to freaky people? Better not ask her unless you want the sole of her pretty little shoe to be stamped on your curious face.

But the fifth daughter of Rozen wasn't easy to give up. She had been used to getting what she wanted, no matter how wild and disgraceful her fancies were. She got down to business and commenced the "winning over" operation, scolding herself severely for the whim so unbecoming for a lady. Shinku smiled faintly recalling her hellish methods. She knew Mr. Sutcliffe's unnatural and incomprehensible oddity, so unfit for Victorian etiquette rules, to be a temporary whim which would pass once he had met a really worthy female.

Things changed gradually as the time passed. Shinku's memories were no more a chain of subsequent events but rather separate scenes and impressions – like pieces of cinematographic film. Perhaps, it was the red colour that had drawn them closer. _She_ had been made by father to be a ruby among her sisters; where _he_ had learned his obsession by anything scarlet remained a mystery.

Grell also liked exquisite things. He couldn't stand anything ugly, cheap, vulgar. It showed even in his mania against fallen women – he could but despise them, their worn-out, garishly made-up shells of bodies, lacking in dignity, their worthless little souls. Everything he dealt with was always expensive and dainty, he sort of ravished in that sense of luring beauty. He had always had a good taste – in everyday items, in flowers, in people, in clothes (not only in men's but also in women's, much to Shinku's convenience).

Shinku hated lack of taste as well. She was a thoroughly sophisticated Victorian lady who evermore tried to surround herself with high-class things, graceful and miniature as her own doll-like self. It was father who had taught her to reach for perfection – the real Alice had to be perfect (_he_ had constituted her to be perfect) in every aspect. The ribbons that interlaced with Shinku's hair had to be of finest silk, the tea cup that was granted the honour to touch her pretty lips could only be made of thin half-transparent china. She would fall in discontent concerning Jun's sheer indifference to such things, his incessantly messy looks. Now Jun must have been a young man in his early twenties – what had happened to him since the time they had fallen out?.. It was just a momentary thought that the former doll instantly chased away. She shouldn't care now. She had a new value – the red Shinigami's long hair, always well-groomed and sweet smelling, always with a golden tint. She didn't know why, but it drove her nearly mad – touching it was her little weakness.

He was the complete contrary of her former medium. Maybe, Shinku had been seeking someone so different from Jun; maybe, over the years she had grown tired to sickness of the gloomy reserved personage. And Grell Sutcliffe had a complex, somewhat rare character. He was bright in all aspects and possessed a sort of charisma. She knew of his murderer's past and also the story of Madam Red, but somehow standing by this person's side didn't make her scared (though it well should have, her common sense sometimes cried out) – she wanted to taste the danger.

And so, a contract between them had been sealed and he became her medium… The Rozen Maiden must have strongly interested the reaper if he consented to do so. Shinku raised her hand above her eyes and looked at the dainty rose-ring on her thin finger. A faint ray of candlelight ran across the metal and it flashed with fire in the semi-darkness of the bedroom. There had been times when the lack of power made it hard to breathe for Shinku – her human body wanted to devour itself from within. Now she felt warm energy streaming steadily through her limbs. The inner strength was immense. She was ready for the battle.

Their relationships were somewhat weird. Shinku was the one who wore pants in the family, if such a term may be applied to so refined a lady. The whimsical little aristocrat loved ordering her manservant around (guys love bitches regardless of the epoch, don't they?). She gave the unfortunate shinigami numerous tasks and errands like she had earlier given to Jun, and used the same ways of punishment for his insolence, obtrusiveness and blunders of all sorts. The way was corporal punishment. Grell didn't fail to feel the difference – Madam's Red butler was nothing compared to what the fifth Rozen Maiden's servant was expected to be. Shinku recollected with a smile a case of particular abuse he once suffered on her part. It was when she stood all trembling, her back against the wall, her features distorted in mortal terror, pointing at the horrible beast sitting peacefully at a distance of about twenty feet, cleaning its muzzle. Yeah, Shinku had never been able to overcome her fear of cats since her dollish past. Mister Sutcliffe did a stupid thing – instead of rushing to help the maiden in distress, he chose to roll on the ground, his sides nearly bursting with hysterical laughter. The retribution didn't take long to fall on the wretch's head. But the capital punishment was more unwelcome for Grell than a second death – his mistress, when pissed out most, could make him press up, and nothing could make her relent - neither curses nor exhortations like "Oh, my poor gorgeous body! You have no pity for it! Why have I deserved to suffer so? Goodbye, cruel world!"

Nevertheless Grell endured the tortures, for he liked being dominated. He enjoyed feeling the other's strength and authority – people lacking these qualities couldn't possibly interest him. He might have become just a little more masculine in the course of their acquaintance (the press-ups did their bit as well), but nevertheless retained all his womanish habits and gestures which annoyed the former doll so much. He had kind of always kept the role, it was just a bit twisted at another angle with the scarlet Maiden. Shinku kept being at times bossy and liked ordering around (it was in her nature, after all), but it felt way different from being this way with Jun – dominating the red-haired reaper was in some way more exquisite, more sensuous, more hazardous. He didn't mind, having been quite used to the role of a personal butler. The tea he made was an insult to Shinku's thoroughly English nature, but, on the other hand, nothing could make her more relaxed and satisfied than the feel of his long fingers, wrapped in the expensive black material of his gloves, massaging her shoulders.

And she would often be nervous and intense these days. It became quite regular that she would shoot up in bed in the middle of the night, breathing heavily, or rub her aching temples, as images of her previous battles rushed before her closed eyes, as she saw Suigintou's purple eyes blazing in bloody anger and the flaring steel of her sword, or father's vague features somewhere in the distance. The feeling of the impending battle grew stronger with every day, she knew it would happen _very _soon now. And she wouldn't be able to control those surges of overpressure herself, she thought. Her medium was always there to comfort her in his own way – this was among things that made them closer. He was unable to understand her desperate wish to become the only one for Father, but still for some reason soothed and embraced her, whispering something lowly in his insinuating voice.

The thought that she knew nearly nothing about her new medium now struck Shinku as a surprise. He had no past while _she _still lived in hers. Sometimes, when evening fell and the girl was tired of silly orders, she would tell the red-haired reaper about everything dear to her – about her sisters, about Father. And about Jun, too. Why did she recall him again? Forget him at once, you foolish Shinku! Grell listened to her with his head softly lying in her lap and her fingers tangled in his bloody locks. He was aware that Shinku kept thinking of the other man but seemed not to mind it. Perhaps, he didn't mind because he could it all in a second with one slash of the death scythe – he had once done it with his former mistress. Or, perhaps, he behaved so, because she was nothing but a perished red memory for him.

No, they were unable to understand each other, though subconsciously they had a stronger bound than they could ever admit. At rare moments Shinku seemed to penetrate deeper in her medium's nature – she somehow had the gift to see beyond the mask of a weirdo everybody thought him to be, and was then rewarded by revelations, the frankness not many had chanced to see. Grell, from his part, couldn't share the Rozen Maiden's attachments to family. She was nothing like Madam Red, she was much more complicated. The ever lonely man who had never had a family and had only his selfish life to live couldn't step into her shoes and feel her longing to be perfect for a certain person's whim. That very fact made him secretly admire her. But, understanding each other in that way they had ceased to understand _themselves_ – the stark Shinku sometimes let herself be more vulnerable by this weird creature's side, and the amorous and light-headed Grell had gone for a more lasting relationship – it mattered little that the basis of this relationship was a contract…

Shinku shifted her head on the pillow and caught sight of one of her golden locks. She recalled one more detail. Grell was given the privilege to be the third person – after Father and Jun – to comb her hair. "When a lady lets a person touch her hair, she lets this person into her heart", she used to say. She would forever remember the touch of Rozen, it was some sacred, unmatched display of her creator's love. But Grell's touch was absolutely dissimilar to Jun's – in a more enjoyable way. It sent sensual shivers down her spine when the red-haired man pulled the ribbons down from her pigtails and his spidery long gloved fingers (no, better say, fingers of a _refined _murderer) caressed the mass of pale gold.

She sometimes wondered at how people of such incompatible characters could live under one roof at all. He was a gifted actress and a drama queen, she was a big boss dressed as a prim and proper Victorian lady – sometimes their scandals were sheer absurd. "Nobody on Earth appreciates me!" Grell would yell peevishly, backing the argument by a dramatic pose and emotional gestures. "Ordered around at work; now ordered around at home, too! I have the impression of living and sleeping with Will!" This was followed by an exclamation of injured dignity and the reaper flying out of the room like a red whirlwind. Oh yes, and he would slam the door. Sometimes he would peep inside again to render his exit yet more dramatic by some witty phrase and then to slam the door with a louder bang. "Thanks God he's gone! Now I can read in peace", Shinku purred blissfully and was lost in the book which she had to put down to watch the scene. It went without saying that they were incompatible! But, there is such a thing as the unity of opposites. And so, the drama ending in one inevitable way – he came back by the evening, and their crimson bed-sheets were crumpled violently again, and Shinku's porcelain neck was covered with tiny bite-like kisses. It was another important aspect of their union. It was the time when they changed roles.

Shinku sighed and watched the flight of another shadow on the wall. She thought that the sky concealed behind the thick dark-red curtains had brightened up a bit in the course of the sleepless night. She had thought a million times how her life _might _have twisted, she had played out possible scenarios in her head. What if she had become human a bit earlier? Then she might have preserved her and Jun's relationships. There might have been no betrayal, no years of insufferable solitude. Or, put it another way – what if she had still been a doll? There was no talking of her being interesting to Sutcliffe in that case. But, taking the situation as it was, he was his medium and they had a sort of relationships she had never dreamed of. Their relationships… Love was a wrong word to describe them – better say, the red colour and circumstances.

But if it be so, why did she need him more than anybody else? He was different – so ridiculous with his thoroughly disgusting ways, but, at the same time so seductive and dangerous, so unique. She wanted him to be by her side. She depended on him. Why? She often asked herself who had the real dominance. Shinku had been protective of Jun, the puny human, as her clumsy servant, but could she act the same way with a person who had once possessed a monstrous chainsaw and could manage human lives? Perhaps, unconscious of it, the two had changed roles – not only when they were in bed. She would not be alone again, at any cost. Falling dependant, she needed the relationship like air…

Shinku turned her head to the right and looked over her shoulder. A pale naked body with messy red hair all around it was lying on the other side of the large bed under the covers. Grell was sleeping tight, his breath was absolutely soundless, that's why the silence seemed so overwhelming and gave Shinku the feeling of being alone. She would not be alone again…

"Grell, kiss me!" she whispered and found her voice pathetic. But no answer followed. "Grell…" – again no reaction. "Sutcliffe!" – the girl punched the body with her elbow.

"Hey!" the man winced and rubbed his sensitive skin, though the punch was very light (for the Rozen Maiden, at least). He reached for the exquisite pocket watch that lay on the carved bedside table next to his neat glasses. "Shinku, it's three in the morning! I have to get up early for work tomorrow, William will…" he could go on whining forever if he didn't turn over to face the young woman's blue eyes glistening with teary liquid. "Hey, Red Rose, what's wrong?" he asked in his sing voice as a somewhat adorable dismayed pout crawled across his feminine lips. He would sometimes call her "Red Rose".

"I feel sad" Shinku replied softly while clutching to the cover. "I want you to kiss me". She didn't care she was behaving like a weak crybaby – it was what she wanted that night.

Without waiting for a reply she climbed up the bright red pillow and sealed his lips with her own. Sakurada might have kissed her in a very different way. Why did she remember him still? Grell's sharp teeth hurt the tip of her tongue pleasurably. He eagerly returned the favour. She aroused new emotions in him.

The scarlet Maiden lowered her head on his narrow chest – their skin was equally soft and white – and fingered a strand of luscious red. She did so for the first time (it was normally his position) and Grell giggled quietly at the sensation. Didn't look like dominance, but who cared?

"You're my medium and manservant and must do what I say," – it was supposed to be an order but didn't sound like one in her low, gentle tone. She intended it to be an order, but it didn't sound like one. Without changing the pose she raised her eyes to meet the two peridot greens above her. "You must be by my side, back me up with energy and not leave me. I do not want to be forsaken..." "...again, " she would add, but didn't. How badly she wanted not to be alone, not to let the horrid memories of this night invade her mind again!

"I promise," he replied simply with a cunning and playful smile on his mouth and ran his long aristocratic fingers (with a rose-ring sitting on one of them) through fine threads of her pallid gold. So pathetic. How had the fragile girl managed to change his very nature so much? Moreover, she was something that went completely against his principles - she was the first woman he loved. The one after Madam Red, perhaps, but he still hadn't figured out what sort of feelings he had had for the latter. It hadn't been love, anyway. They used to have the same goal. He admired her cruelty. It was all different with the scarlet Rozen Maiden. She was a rare flower, the ruby rose of his death garden. A fragile creature in his hands, in moments like this. So vulnerable, so dependent. He had always considered himself gentle and delicate to the utmost – she was also delicate, even more delicate. Nothing in common with the thirst for blood that was the ornament of his late mistress... But still, he had been attracted to her by her power, her inner strength. She had a pivot of great strength and character within her, he could feel such things well enough. She was determined, though it showed only in the wish to please her father; she wanted to be the first and the best one. Those ambitions of hers could make her cruel. Of all the tales of her past Grell loved the best the one about her last battle with Suigintou – the battle which the scarlet maiden had won. He derived immense pleasure from picturing her sisters worthless broken body, wrapped in blue flames, her faded purple eyes which looked at victoress with a mixture of hatred and supplication for mercy. Let Shinku repeat for the millionth time that she truly regretted her deed and that there was nothing harder to bear than the loss of a sister; let Suigintou be brought back to life with the only though of revenge – Grell knew by experience that such propensities were not easy to get rid of. There might come the day when they would paint the world there favourite colour together. Shinku would not be stopped to fulfill her mission like Madam Red was; she would not make him despise her. And if she did… The time of the Alice Game she had told him so much about, would approach soon. And she would be magnificent in her battle. It would be something for him to watch.

"Now, try to relax, Shinku-chan, and go to sleep" – he ran his hand through her hair once again.

The fifth daughter of Rozen sighed deeply and closed her eyes, the vermillion tress squeezed tightly in her little hand. The clock ticked away the time before the new stage of the Alice Game would begin. She felt its inevitable approach. She had learnt to truly miss her sisters over the years: the placid and thoughtful Souseiseki, her at times hysterical but loving and caring twin, the two cute annoying brats, the newly born Kirakishou whom she had never seen and even the fiery-eyed Suigintou, her main rival for Father's love. They would soon meet somehow… Shinku tried to drive away thoughts of Jun and before long drifted off. The single candle would soon burn down and then the red bedroom would be completely plunged into darkness. The scent of ruby flowers in the vase would become yet more intoxicating.

Sleep tight, Red Rose.


	2. Born to wear red

**As I've said, I had a strange idea to write a sequel – something like a little pre-story to what happened in the first chapter. Tried to be more IC here. Your opinion always welcome)**

The mellow silence of the red chamber augmented with every second as the night waned. The fragrance of the roses, fluorescent in the darkness, was inseparable from this black-and-scarlet symphony of solitude. Grell was thinking…

The red reaper was unaccustomed to dwelling on a certain subject before going to sleep – no, that was completely against his flippant nature. To tell the truth, he rarely used to sleep at night at all. He would disappear into the darkness and saunter in the deserted alleyways of London till dawn or plunge into a train of bawdy parties or masquerades, where he had never been invited. These were his own little exquisite vices. When he _did _find himself in bed, the only thought he could spare before falling asleep was of some man or other with whom he was currently infatuated. With the fastidiousness of a lady could he compose in his head the image of a dream lover and sigh himself to sleep – but never more than that. So why the hell would _he _of all people be now dwelling on his remembrances, with this curious doll-like creature curled by his side, a lock of his vermillion hair clasped tightly in her hand? One could say they had been for quite a while together. My-my, even Madam would have been unable to change him so much. How did he ever come across the Red Rose? It was a ridiculous story which he remembered well…

It happened during one of Grell's nightly rambles across a filthy East-Side side-street – those side-streets always smell of desperate poverty, blood and prostitution. The shinigami didn't know what he was looking for in a place like that. Perhaps, it was a sense of nostalgia. The clicking of his low heels was the only sound audible, when suddenly Grell was caught unawares by a sharp, piercing, heart-rendering cry. A cry of pain. A woman's cry… Grell's gloved hand tightened around the handle of his death scythe – the chainsaw that was forever with him. It must have been one of those fallen street women, surrounded by an aura of cheap vulgarity he abhorred and despised so much. The red-head missed his and Madam's vindictive crimes under the disguise of Jack the Ripper and it would be a nice tribute to his deceased accomplice, he thought, to paint the cobblestones with the magnificent red of this wretch's contaminated blood. Oh, it would be such a pleasure to cut the cold steel through the paltry slut's body, thus alleviating her throes. His feminine lips curved in a smirk, revealing shark-like teeth, as the reaper hastened to where the voice was coming from. He lurked behind a wall and peeped carefully around the corner to watch what was going on. It was not what he had expected to see, however. What he _did _see made his green eyes widen with surprise.

The action, whatever it was, took place deeper in the dark alley and all Grell could see were grotesque shadows of the objects produced by a gas street-lamp. It was something like a twisted shadow play. The reaper saw a small shadow crouching and wreathing in seeming agony, but couldn't make out what it was. The shape looked like that of a human but the size of it made Grell doubt. It was too small to be a woman – more like a dwarf or a child, or, oddly, of a doll. The victim cried with unwonted pain and trembled as if in convulsion. Suddenly the shape began to alter – it grew bigger and more slender and the outlines of it looked more like a body. Grell watched the transformation with astonishment and curiosity, mesmerized.

Finally the shadow stretched with a last shriek and stood erect for a second, falling on the ground immediately after. It became silent again. Grell hesitated whether to take to his heels or go and check what it was all about before his natural female curiosity made him do the latter. Still death scythe in hand, he left his ambush and stared in the gloom of the alleyway so that he could see the queer object itself, not just the shadow. The lamplight snatched from the darkness the outlines of a large old-fashioned-looking case with a golden rose on top, lying opened on the ground. Not far from it was a girl's body. But this girl looked nothing like what Grell had imagined her to be.

She was tall and slender and her skin was milk-white and as smooth as porcelain. She had the finest long shiny hair, much like Grell's own, but instead of red it was of a pale golden hue. She was unconscious, stretched negligently on the ground, naked. The only thing that covered her body were thick red ribbons wrapped around it in a curious way to conceal what was considered indecent, but to reveal and highlight the well-proportioned curves. She was something Grell had never seen in real life.

The reaper's heart palpitated at the sight of such beauty. No, he had no fancy for women and the sight of a pretty naked girl didn't arouse him in that way, but, as a true aesthete, he didn't fail to appreciate the subtle, aristocratic delicacy of her looks. She was nearly perfect and would be even more so painted in his favourite colour. His first impulse was to fulfill his original plan and slash his chainsaw against the glowing young skin, but then he checked himself. The bright ribbons made for the amount of red her blood could provide – she was perfect as she was. Grell squatted down and examined the girl's features carefully. A red ruby, she was almost a female alternative of his own gorgeous self, he thought. Why was he suddenly attracted to this girl he didn't know? Why pity and mercy her? No, he wasn't beguiled, he was _interested_. There was definitely something about her which was worth his attention.

The unwilling adventurer pulled off his coat and wrapped the lifeless girl in it. Her body was cold and slack and she didn't react. Jeez, red suited her so wonderfully as if she had been born to wear the colour. "Yeah, Grell, you're faaantastic at finding a pain for your sexy ass!" the shinigami grumbled to himself and tried to take the findling in his arms and lift her. The burden was as light as a feather but Grell groaned, his knees trembled and he nearly collapsed altogether. He wasn't used to carrying girls around bride-style, he was used to _being _carried (desirably, by strong attractive men). But there was nothing doing. To crown his miseries, something like a red firefly flew out from the wooden case and started circling around Grell, as if trying to make him leave the girl alone. "Great, an annoying bug", the shinigami stated desperately and went on walking, fanning the insect away. Thanks God, Madam Red's mansion, where he lived when being in London, was not a far way off.

Shinku gave a tiny moan as she tried to move. Her body ached all over as though she had real muscles. Struggling a little more with herself she opened her eyes and…

The first thing she saw was the green-eyed toothy face of an unfamiliar red-haired man (uh, if it _was_ a man at all) staring at her intently. "Finally! I thought you were not coming to senses again", he said in a capricious way and waved his groomed hand negligently. The sight of the flamboyant monster gave the Rozen Maiden the fright of her life and she screamed on top of her voice, forgetting that it was less than proper for a well-bred lady. Unaware of such a hostile reaction, Grell also gave a scream, more girlish and high-pitched than Shinku's, and backed away from her. The doll raised her hand to slap the saucy intruder (Oh, that was something she was good at), but paused as she caught sight of it. Her hand looked… different. Her fingers were now longer and thinner, with a red ribbon tied around the wrist and all the way down her arm, and there was no ball-joint. She gasped and examined her body.

Shinku found herself in a bedroom decorated with all shades of scarlet she could think of. She herself was sitting in a high-backed plush armchair, dressed in nothing but a long wide-skirted red coat and the said ribbons wrapped tightly about her figure. It wasn't _her _body. It was that of a human. Seized by panic and agitation, she gasped again, jumped off the armchair and rushed to the full-length mirror in the corner, nearly knocking down the bewildered reaper. In the mirror Rozen's fifth daughter saw herself a human.

Tears gushed out from her eyes as mixed feelings of incomprehension, fear and surprise overwhelmed her. The memory of last night struck her as thunder – her sudden convulsion, body distorted with pain and oblivious darkness afterwards. Willing, but still unable to believe, she quickly shed the coat and tugged at the end of the ribbon at her neck to make it slid gracefully down her naked form and form a pool of scarlet at her feet. Grell turned around discreetly. It wasn't that he felt shy or awkward at the tempting sight – it was just good manners. Pretty naked women weren't a big deal for the gender-confused reaper. If it were a naked _man, _he would think twice before turning around. If it were a _hot _naked man, then let good manners be hanged!

Unaware that she was standing completely bare in the presence of a man, Shinku examined herself in the mirror, tears of emotion flowing down her cheeks. She was a beauty. Tall enough to reach any door-knob, with full round breasts, an elegant waist and smooth hips. Her golden hair was streaming down her back, slightly disheveled. What could it all mean? Why would she become human all of a sudden? It was Father's wish, no doubt – it was a new stage of the Alice Game. Perhaps, that was what Alice, perfection embodied, looked like. But she was not Alice yet, she was just closer to becoming her and she had to be strong to fight and endure. It was Father's sign to act, it was his gift, she was sure. "Father… You trust me… You made me human, like yourself… I will win the game… and become Alice… I promise! I will find you!" she muttered in between sobs, unable to take her eyes off of her reflection.

After some time the pieces of ribbon at her feet started to glow and crawl up her legs to form her regular outfit – the red Victorian dress, which now reached down to her feet, with a cape and a bonnet. Even her hair was parted into familiar pigtails. She was the same crimson doll, but better, a hundred times better than before, because she was human. A real heart beating within her chest and no key needed to wind her up…

Having dried her tears and composed herself in a way becoming for a lady, she finally tore herself away from the mirror and actually noticed Grell still standing discreetly with his back to her. Till now she hadn't thought how she had come to be in his house. He looked over his shoulder to see if she was finished. Dressed elegantly but with a tinge of eccentricity, with neat red-brimmed glasses, he had strangely feminine features, yet stranger teeth, bewitching yellowish-green eyes and a most perfect mane of hair. A strange guy it was. But he wasn't a total stranger. Looking closer, Shinku realized she had actually seen him before. One could by no means forget the sumptuous waves of scarlet locks he possessed.

"Hm… Thank you for giving me shelter for the night, human", she said ruffling her dress in her hands. The proud Shinku was embarrassed to thank anybody – she was used to taking everything for granted and hated being dependent, but it couldn't be helped.

Grell smiled with a pleased cocky smile that made a shiver run down the girl's spine. "Oh, it's nothing. As a rule, I'm not into charity, you know", he said in a sugary voice while examining his perfectly groomed nails. "But _you _made me interested. Mind telling me your secret?" He sat down on the edge of the huge luxurious bed, eager to listen.

"Uh… What secret?" Shinku found it best to pretend ignorant. Now, when she was a living girl, it would prove hard to make people believe in the whole Rozen Maiden thing, so it would be more reasonable to act "normal".

"Come on, I know you're no ordinary person", he pulled a knowing face. "I saw you transform to a human from whatever you had been. There's no hiding, sis. Tell me about this Father and Alice you've just mentioned. I hope it will prove worthy of all the trouble I had dragging you here last night".

Shinku sighed and sat in the armchair opposite him. She hated being treated so disrespectfully but there was no way back. "Ok", she started, "you're sort of right. I am Shinku, daughter of Master Rozen and the fifth of the Rozen Maiden dolls". Trying to be as plain and as devoid of complicated details as she could, Shinku laid the story of her life before her weird companion. Having spoken out, she even felt kind of relieved – the last time she talked to somebody had been so long ago!

"Oh, that 's very nice!" Grell smiled from ear to ear when the narrative was finished. Of course, it was less beautiful and tragic than Madam's story, but it was amusing and definitely better than the dull paperwork he had to do at the Reaper Department. And he hadn't been mistaken about the girl – she _was_ special after all and she _had _been made to be as red as a rose among her sisters.

"Now your turn", Shinku said, growing bolder and making herself more comfortable in the chair. She was anxious for requital. "I gather, you are no ordinary human either. I've seen you before".

The reaper cocked one brow incredulously. "Where?"

"At Mrs. Priston's deathbed. I saw you with the other man".

Mrs. Priston had been Shinku's last medium. She had been a half-mad ailing old lady who hadn't been much surprised at the talking doll and forged the contract quite eagerly, willing to find at least some companion. She was lonely, her husband long dead and all her relatives too scornful to maintain contact with her. Shinku wasn't happy with the old hag – she took the doll for a mute listener and kept babbling to her about her flat life over and over again. Yet, it was better than nothing for the Rozen Maiden who had lost her faith together with Jun.

Then Mrs. Priston fell seriously ill and it was clear she wouldn't last long. These days were the dreariest for Shinku. The old lady wasn't too dear to her – nothing like what Grandfather and Grandmother had been for Sou- and Suiseiseki, - but she spent days at her bedside and tried to comfort her as well as she could. Then, one night…

It was a dark cloudless night with a full moon shining brightly in the window. Mrs. Priston had grown worse, but she was tranquil and seemingly prepared for her lot. Shinku sat on the bed beside her as usual. Suddenly, she heard a strange fluttering noise and caught sight of something hovering outside the window. Somebody was getting into the room. It must have been burglars, though the lonely old woman wasn't rich enough to be worth their trouble. Shinku wondered why Mrs. Priston's maid downstairs wasn't alarmed by the intruders, but she decided to hide and pretend to be an ordinary toy not to scare them away. If they were real burglars, she would take them by surprise.

She watched two men climb into the room through the open window. One resembled those businessmen she had seen on TV when living at Jun's – tall, black-haired, dressed in a suit and wearing glasses, cool and concentrated. He carried some strange gardening tool in his hands. "Burglars are getting more and more twisted these days", she thought. The other one skipped into the room gracefully from the windowsill. He was nothing like his partner. A flash of crimson with long red hair. He looked aristocratic enough for Shinku's taste, but for a chainsaw in his hands – that was completely out of place. "A charming little place", he observed in a singsong voice, examining the room with the look of an expert. "It only lacks a bit of luxury. And a bit of red as well".

"Don't touch anything here!" the other man snapped as his companion took a dainty statuette from the bedside table. "I brought you to assist me, not to make matters worse!"

"Sorry, darling!" the red one apologized in a guilty manner and assumed a concentrated air.

Those two were an odd pair indeed. They didn't look like burglars. Shinku was at a loss what to do. Mrs. Priston, on the other hand, looked calmly at the unwanted guests – she didn't scream and wasn't the least bit surprised to see them. "You have come to take me away from here?" she asked in a perfectly tranquil meaningful tone.

"Yes, Ma'm, I am sorry to say you are about to die", the black-haired man said as if it were his professional duty. "You have lived a fine life, but it's time to go to rest now. Wait a little, it won't last long".

"And it won't hurt", the red one assured with a comforting smile.

His companion approached the old woman's bed. He soothed her and she closed her eyes. He made a tiny, hardly visible puncture on her neck with the sharp end of his instrument and strange long stripes strongly resembling cinema film flowed in the air from the dying woman's frame. It showed episodes of Mrs. Priston's life like a chronicle, though Shinku knew it was long before television would be invented. She watched breathlessly this beautiful yet fearful proceeding and was glad the men didn't notice her.

The red-haired one gathered the film softly between his gloved hands and cut its end from the woman's body with a pair of tiny scissors. His partner pulled a notebook out of his pocket and took something down in it. "Amelia Priston, aged 89 – done", he said in a business-like tone and closed the book. "We can go now".

The other man examined the dead woman with a queer interest and when he noticed the rose ring on her finger, his emerald eyes sparkled. "Ooooh, what a lovely ring!" he observed with excitement.

"Sutcliffe! Stop being an idiot! We're leaving", the other said sternly and turned around to go.

"Coming!" the other whined reluctantly. He plucked a single red rose from the vase on the table and smelled it with a blissful smile. As the gentle petals brushed against his soft lips, Shinku trembled involuntarily. The young man tore a few petals and dropped them spectacularly on the corpse. "Sweet dreams, my good woman", he said in a silky insinuated voice which made the doll tremble again.

The two men escaped through the window, leaving the dead woman alone in the room. When her body was cold and lifeless, the rose ring slowly faded away from her finger. Shinku had just lost another medium.

"So you were in the room all the time. Will would be mad if he knew we were watched!" Grell giggled when Shinku cleared out the situation. "Will's the other man, my sexy but cruel boss. We're both _shinigami_".

"Shini… what?" Shinku asked blankly. Though she had lived with Jun in Japan for quite a while, the word didn't tell her anything,

Grell sighed. "So we're a sophisticated English lady. Does the term _grim reaper _ring any bells?"

Shinku's sky-blue eyes widened in sheer amazement. "Wait, you mean you reap human souls? Don't you mean to say you are… death itself?"

"A nice guess, Red Rose", the other retorted mockingly.

The fifth Rozen Maiden couldn't believe her eyes. Of all people in London she happened to come across a death god. So that's what it looked like. She gazed at him differently now. This made her recall Poe's _Mask of the Red Death_ – she had read a lot while living at Jun's and this short story had always disgusted and enchanted her at the same time. Now she had similar feelings towards the man opposite her. The only difference was that he was much more refined and handsome than the Red Death in the book. Or beautiful. Whichever word suited him better.

"And may I know your name, then?" she asked in an offended tone. Shinku hated being mocked at.

"Grell Sutcliffe", the other replied. For some reason, Shinku thought it was more melodious than _Jun_ _Sakurada_. There was a tiny pause. "You know, it's weird that two such people should bump into each other twice like that. Still, if there's nothing else to talk about, I think you'd better go. And take your annoying bug with you".

He motioned at the small jar on the mantelpiece with the red firefly thrashing inside nervously. "Holie?" her mistress exclaimed on top of her voice. "How could you put my artificial spirit in a jar?" Honestly, she was very cross with the impudent effeminate creature who didn't realize the honour of being in her presence at all!

"Yeah, right. Spirit or not, it was a real pester", the shinigami stated peevishly and shoved the jar to Shinku. "Now, I'm late for work and Will won't be happy about it. Have a nice day!"

The next moment Shinku found herself standing unceremoniously on the porch of the mansion, her wooden case in hand, the jar with Holie tucked under the other arm. She fumed at such ungentlemanlike treatment. This red-head really thought too much of himself. But, on the other hand, it was nice of him to put her up for the night – it was much better than remaining unconscious and half-naked in the street. She was surprised too that Sutcliffe didn't once try to harass her or touch her without permission – she didn't even have the opportunity to slap him for being gross. And, taking her present situation into account, he didn't even take advantage of it – now that Shinku was human he might well have done it. That was sort of a pleasant surprise, for Shinku had been forever convinced that human males were highly vulgar creatures. But, again, how could he remain unaffected by her lady's charms? A true gentleman would have been more gratifying. Something was seriously wrong with the man. He wasn't even a man, to come to think of it, he was a shini… something with a horrendous chainsaw which shouldn't even be in the Victorian timeline. Yet, that wonderful red colour he was mad about as much as herself… She had a mixed impression of her new acquaintance.

But there were more vital things to puzzle over at present. Shinku stepped off the doorstep and looked around. Where would she go now that she was human? She had to find a place to live in. And, more importantly, she had to find a new medium, for her power had been greatly diminished by the transformation. Her present form would probably demand more of a medium's energy than before. "Hm, Grell Sutcliffe…" the Red Rose thought to herself as she walked away from the mansion.

**After I have finished it struck me that it looks pretty much like a scene from Chobits with all that ribbn stuff, although it hadn't been intended to be that way. Who should care now? I hope to update again before too long, so be nice to me)**


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